Christmas
by crystalswolf
Summary: Trip's perspective of his intimate interspecies fling with T'Pol in Harbinger.


Summary: Requested T/T, Trip's perspective of his intimate interspecies fling with T'Pol in "Harbinger". This is the other perspective to Magnetic.

Note: Thanks Aikiweezie for the suggestion. Thank you Dinah for your help in streamlining this story. Great advice and encouragement and catching a very big mistake.

Disclaimer: Of course, Star Trek characters do not belong to me, I'm just borrowing them hopefully to honor them.

* * *

As quiet as a church mouse, that's what T'Pol had been the moment he entered her quarters. He could have spent the rest of the night without uttering a word either, but Trip knew it just wasn't in his nature. "You aren't saying much tonight. Don't tell me you're still upset about me and Amanda."

Sitting upright on their knees, they were cushioned by the colorful pillows layering the floor for their comfort. Although T'Pol was a representative of a boring, uptight species more obsessed with function rather than form, Trip noticed she had a preference for comfort and bold, lush colors. It was a contradiction he hadn't been fully aware of until they'd entered the Expanse.

T'Pol's fingertips manipulated the neural nodes behind his jaw and Trip could feel those muscles unclench. Unfortunately, the more he relaxed, the greater he felt the divide between them. It wasn't anything obvious; it never was with Vulcans. Never a pout or a frown. Trip usually found those buried feelings in their eyes. Windows to the soul and all that, he guessed.

"I'm not upset."

He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd heard something in the tone of her voice. "It sure sounds like it." Did she really think he'd let it go that easily? There was something to this. He could sense it, and he was not going to let her off the hook until he knew what it was.

"You're mistaken," she said simply, but Trip knew there was something more to all of this. This was T'Pol, after all. Even though he was fairly sure she wasn't jealous, that didn't stop him from wanting to solve the mystery of why the time he'd spent with the MACO bothered her so much.

Sure, Amanda was definitely his type. He had a thing for exotic features, always had. But he had no intention of anything other than helping out a colleague when he'd agreed to share the benefits of Vulcan neuropressure with the woman. Even when she kissed him, something inside resisted for a reason he was not willing to think about just yet. Besides, if there was something between them, what did it matter to T'Pol?

"Why would a few neuro-pressure sessions between me and a MACO be such a big deal?"

Using almost the same process he would to diagnose an under-the-weather engine, Trip cycled through as many causes as he could for T'Pol's strange behavior lately. He narrowed it down to the most likely causes, but the one that constantly crept up – the one that answered everything – was the least likely.

Although he knew T'Pol had developed a healthy respect for humans, at least the ones on Enterprise, her nose still twitched when she was around too many in one room. He wasn't sure how she endured his feet during their sessions after a hard day of work.

He couldn't avoid the other thought in his mind, either. For a second, he entertained the idea that she could feel something for him. Maybe he wasn't the only one fantasizing about the other person. The idea was crazy. Why would she be jealous of him, ol' very human him?

Wishful thinking, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun getting the upper hand. "Unless..."

Unsure whether she would accept the challenge, Trip felt the tingle of a good war brewing when she did.

"Unless what?" she asked.

In any game of the mind, it was fun for the winning side to keep their opponent, T'Pol in this case, off-kilter, and there was nothing he loved more than winning the mind games they played.

"Unless you're a little jealous," he stated plainly, maintaining his poker face for the entire lie. Strangely, the words came easier when it was just for fun.

"I don't experience jealousy," she told him. Her fingers continued to melt away the tension in his shoulders, although he could swear he felt them tighten just a bit for a second.

He knew T'Pol had watched him with Amanda. And he could swear that T'Pol caught an easily avoidable blow to the jaw after Amanda had surprised him with an innocent, playful pat on the rear. Okay, not so innocent. He was fully aware of Amanda's intentions.

Regardless, he was willing to bet the health of his beloved warp engines that T'Pol wasn't jealous because she, like many Vulcans, found humans kind'a repulsive. T'Pol wasn't one to hide just how annoyed she could be with their smell, their physical differences, and especially their tendency to ignore logic all the time.

All the same, in this moment he was having the time of his life basking, as the winner, in their latest mental human-Vulcan tug-of-war, accusing her of nonsense just to get a rise out of her. "You're doing a pretty fair imitation of it."

Still, jealousy was the only "logical" answer. It didn't make any sense, given her aversion to humans – Trip knew full well that he was one of the more human humans around – and the fact that Vulcans just don't lie. But her actions were a textbook case. Then again, Trip wouldn't consider himself an expert on women and couldn't even begin to figure out a Vulcan woman.

When her eyes met his, her face was the picture of stoic truth and her full lips, those lips his eyes focused on more than he cared to admit right now, enunciated each word for emphasis. "I am not, in any way, jealous of you and Corporal Cole."

For a second there, he thought he'd caught some hint of tension in her tone when T'Pol said Amanda's name. It was probably just his imagination, but why would that stop him from playing their game? The one he was winning, by the way.

"You know, your voice is tensing up. It's a dead giveaway." He couldn't help himself. The more he asserted, the more annoyed she'd become, and Trip figured he would see just how far he could push her.

"I didn't know you were an expert in vocal inflections."

"I don't need to be an expert to read you." It was all in fun and Trip was having the time of his life. He knew T'Pol was furious, by Vulcan standards anyway.

And yet, somewhere from deep in his mind there was a need to push for more from her. "Come on, admit it. You're a little jealous." The words were exactly what he wanted to say, but the inflection was something entirely different. Something inside him still held out some hope – obviously more than he realized – that perhaps what was between them wasn't merely one-sided.

"You're implying that I'm attracted to you."

In his mind there was an epic power struggle, and yet Trip was barely aware of it. He wanted to revel entirely in the self-satisfaction of having the upper hand in their conversation but it left a part of him feeling empty and disappointed. Still, since it was only a part of him, he pressed on. "It kinda goes with the assumption."

"I think you're mistaken about who's attracted to whom."

The conversation took an unexpected turn, and he had to wonder where T'Pol was going with this. At no time had he ever mention his attraction to her. He never even told his best friend, Malcolm, just in case. "Are you saying I'm attracted to you?"

"I don't need to say it. You already have."

Frantically trying to recall every encounter they ever had, even those moments when he fell asleep during their sessions, Trip desperately gathered them all and with the little time allotted, went through each in his mind. His body froze and his mind churned as he answered the only way he could, as casually as he could: "I don't remember that conversation."

"It wasn't you, it was your clone. Sim told me."

The name rankled. It was bad enough he felt the guilt of having a clone grown, raised and killed just for him, but the clone seemed to garner affection from the crew in only a few days, especially from T'Pol. Whenever his name came up around her, Trip noticed she lowered her eyes, and there was something in them he could swear was pain, perhaps even regret. Now it seemed the guy had betrayed him by announcing his feelings for T'Pol. "Sim?"

There it was again, the look in her eyes as she thought about that son-of-a-bitch copy.

He said he had feelings for me," she stated plainly.

Although he was taught to never speak ill of the dead, he was sure thinking ill. It didn't matter that all T'Pol said was that Sim had confessed his own feelings. Trip felt all of the frustration build into one point in his mind. What happened between those two? "He told you that?"

"Standing right there." T'Pol's head tilted toward her locker, and Trip, in his mind, saw a copy of himself standing in T'Pol's room declaring his undying love for the Vulcan woman.

It was a scene right out of a Shakespearean play, with a starry-eyed, second-rate copy of Romeo wooing his Vulcan Juliet, and T'Pol uncharacteristically swooning at this gesture of romance. This led to more vivid images in his mind, causing a sudden need to hit something because he could not hit the particular someone he had in mind. "What the hell was he doing in your room?"

"Your voice is tensing up," T'Pol casually mentioned.

Trip could not believe just how unimportant her comment was at the moment. Sim was in her room, professing his eternal love, and they did God knows what afterward. Now she wanted to talk about the tension of voices?

"Oh, now you're the vocal expert," he barely thought about his answer, his mind conjured scenarios all ending with T'Pol and Sim lying in bed smoking cigarettes as they did in the old movies.

T'Pol responded quickly with her own jab. "I don't need to be an expert to read you."

Was it a lie? Did she actually go against her Vulcan beliefs just to unbalance him? The idea was sobering. He was angry about a dead man that was him in almost every way. If Sim were still alive, was Trip really ready to fight... himself?

Trying to understand the concept of who actually was Charles Tucker III –where did he end and Sim begin or vice versa – became almost impossible. His mind almost caught fire, complete with smoking cogs, scraped metal and all. "I can't believe this. I'm jealous of myself?"

"You're jealous?" she responded quickly.

The strange turn of the conversation left him feeling like a trapped rat. It was one thing to suggest T'Pol felt something for him to annoy her but it was something else to have his true feelings on display, vulnerable to Vulcan cold indifference.

"No, absolutely not."

That strange look in her eyes returned, but this had nothing to do with Sim. Trip was sure of it. But was it enough to admit what he could barely admit to himself? What if she thought to use his feelings for her as fodder for their verbal tug-of-war?

Sucking it up and bracing himself for the worst, Trip confessed, "Okay, maybe." The words were strangely liberating. If it was going to be out there, it might as well be fully out there. "Maybe I am, a little."

"Which would mean you're attracted to me."

The hairs on his body stood on end as he braced himself for a verbal assault when she continued, "It goes with the assumption."

His feelings were out there dangling in front of both of them, and T'Pol didn't seem interested in using them against him. In fact, he could swear he saw a smile on those full lips, but what did it all mean? They weren't arguing, not even a token jab. "What just happened here?" he asked himself out loud.

His mind continued to work through what exactly was going on between them. He'd just confessed his feelings and T'Pol seemed pleased with the idea, and not in her smug Vulcan way. "Did we...?" Words failed him as he tried to describe what was happening in their relationship. "Are we...?" Trip tried to understand what their relationship had become in only a few moments. His mind whirled in an endless loop that probably would have overloaded the ship's computers when he felt soft lips press against his.

Her lips were softer than he'd imagined, and her breath was somewhat earthy, spicy with just a hint of sweetness, bizarrely reminding him of his family's kitchen when his father arranged the spices for his homemade barbeque rub.

When her hands cupped his face, Trip felt a surge of something flow through T'Pol's fingertips into him, charging every nerve in his body from already overloaded brain cells down to his toes, lingering in some areas more than others. The charge looped back upward, returning to her fingertips.

Trip leaned into the kiss. Even though he tried repeating to himself that it was nothing but a kiss, an unfamiliar voice in his mind whispered that it was something more. Unfortunately, his body conspired with that voice against his mind.

He wanted to taste her fully, hungry to feel her tongue against his. Probing, he was pleased to find no rejection, not even any hesitation. That is, until a moment later when she pulled away from him.

When their kiss started, he saw this coming. She would experiment with a kiss and find the closeness to a human unbearable, leaving them feeling awkward for a time. Eventually they would go back to the normalcy of their friendship. But that whispering voice told a different story.

Sitting back, T'Pol's fingers gracefully unwound the ties of her robe. The universe slowed and Trip wondered if time was stopping just for this moment, because it knew he would want to remember it in all its detail, later. As her robe left her shoulders, the blue silken material highlighted the green undertones of her tawny skin, and Trip wondered, only for a second, if this was just one of his fantasies again. Was this really happening?

He no longer controlled his body as it instinctively answered her suggestion, well, more like a demand. His eyes, not of his own will, traveled down the length of her body.

She was generally thinner than a human. The thick, layered robes Vulcans seemed to love so much were a bit misleading. Many thought Vulcan forms were similar to humans until they met a few Vulcans who wore thinner layers, like T'Pol did. The only way he could describe her shape was willowy.

Honestly, he always had a thing for athletic women, strong with amazing endurance. Even while knowing Vulcans were stronger, Trip couldn't imagine her small frame holding up to what he was thinking. Still, he continued to think about it as his eyes and head lowered, and Trip noticed other differences between human and Vulcan women – definitely nothing unpleasant.

It suddenly hit him that this was not just any woman. He was staring at T'Pol...naked...no clothes...at all. This was the woman he couldn't stand to even be around at first, but he eventually learned to tolerate her, and sometime between then and now he fell in love with her. And here she was, offering herself to him. It was Christmas again.

Trip was nine years old and the sun had barely risen when the doors to his and his sister's rooms flew open. Two parents stumbled out of their room, zombie-like, after allowing the stampede of two children to pass before entering the hallway.

Elizabeth, his sister, went straight for her wrapped presents under the tree, but Trip didn't have to. There in the center, on top of a large gift-wrapped box was all he ever wanted: the very model boat he'd found in the hobby shop, complete with a powerful little engine. He'd already pictured tearing apart that engine to see how it worked.

He'd never had the opportunity to get his hands on an actual engine before. His parents had forbidden him to go anywhere near the family vehicles for fear they would be dismantled. But here was one, framed by the green needles of a long leaf pine decorated with tiny lights twinkling like fireflies and delicate round glass ornaments. It was the most wondrous thing he'd ever seen... until now.

T'Pol drew toward him again like a predator stalking her prey. Her lips caught his and locked. There was no doubt anymore about her intentions, and Trip didn't realize he had any remaining control over his body until he felt it evaporate in the last few seconds.

His hands moved everywhere, feeling the surprisingly smooth, extremely soft surface of her skin. Weren't Vulcans supposed to be desert hardy? How could they have skin like chamois leather and survive in the desert?

He knew Vulcans were different from humans, but now he wondered about those differences he just couldn't see or read about in databases, those personal preferences he had to figure out. What had he gotten himself into?

Would she like a nibble at the neck or ear, like he did? Or maybe she preferred kisses on her shoulders or perhaps down her chest and belly? For all he knew, Vulcans were sexually aroused by armpit tickles. Suddenly, interspecies contact became a lot more complicated.

His hands were at her shoulders as his mouth enjoyed the spicy taste of her. Moving of their own accord, his hands seemed to have no other purpose than adoring the feel of her skin.

As his fingers passed her shoulders, the voice in his mind whispered, "Yes." To her back, the voice approved, definitely. Down her spine, the whispering voice encouraged him every step of the way. Now at the middle of her back, the voice became more forceful. He wasn't sure how he knew it or where that voice came from, but he knew this was where his hands should be.

Fingers bending into claws, he raked across her skin from the center pulling outward and T'Pol's body melted. Her lips, which were relentlessly attached to his, pulled away and she exhaled her warm, aromatic breath.

Something in his mind sensed that T'Pol wanted her turn to explore. That little voice seemed to be helping him, so who was he to question it? Besides, he was more than happy to oblige.

Taking her hands in his, Trip planted them on his chest and in less than a second her hands were on the move. He closed his eyes and allowed his body to enjoy the feel of her hands sweeping across his chest, his arms. Then nothing.

His eyes opened to find T'Pol standing, her hand outstretched and her face, as usual, unreadable... except for the eyes, always the eyes.

As soon as he took her hand and stood, her lips locked onto his, and Trip wondered if Vulcans secretly loved kissing more than humans. Soft, delicate hands continued to explore his body as they crossed over his back like a silk shirt. When they passed over his chest, his body shuddered.

His mind blanked and his body took over, taking control of the situation as his mind couldn't keep up. Her hands roamed downward and his legs almost buckled.

The waistband on his sweatpants pulled away ever so slightly to accommodate slender hands, and Trip felt the room whirl into blurred shadows and candlelight, causing him to close his eyes before he lost his balance. He struggled to draw a breath.

He felt her lips on his neck and the universe might as well have contracted into one small room aboard an insignificant ship called Enterprise, as far as he was concerned.

Her face nuzzled behind his ear and his body strained. Her mouth enveloped his earlobe and the southern gentleman transformed into a totally different creature. There was nothing he wanted more in the universe than to taste her again. His mouth sought hers and demandingly collected those supple lips when found.

Sweatpants, the last of the barriers between them, slipped away along with any vestige of patience he had. His body demanded her.

It was no longer a matter of whether they would spend the night together, he had passed that uncertainty an earlobe nibble and very intimate caress ago. He knew something was going to happen between them as surely as he knew the engine was well from the feel of the ship's vibrations.

It was best to make their way to the bed sooner than later for comfort's sake. It was their first time together, after all, and so he made sure to sit on her bed before anything else happened. It was his turn to take the lead.

His arms reached out and pulled her close, their eyes never breaking contact. This was what he wanted. Human women, Vulcan women, a universe of women and none of them compared to the only one he wanted.

Wrapping her legs around him, T'Pol sat comfortably on his lap pulling his mouth back to hers, threatening to devour him whole, and he had no problem with the idea.

x

"T'Pol here."

The fog of sleep, a considerably deep sleep he hadn't had in ages, cleared as he felt the bed around him and realized T'Pol was elsewhere.

The room was in almost total darkness, except for one lonely candle, its light hanging by a thread. Trip guessed that T'Pol was standing somewhere near the intercom from her words earlier. That was confirmed when he heard the communications officer's voice, "You're needed on the Bridge, Commander."

"On my way," T'Pol responded from the darkness in her typically flat tone.

Something wasn't right on the ship. He was sure of it from the sound of Hoshi's voice, but his mind was still too occupied with what had happened in the room to be overly concerned with what could be happening outside of it.

"Commander," Hoshi's voice boomed in what should have been the serene darkness of a long afterglow, "if you happen to see Commander Tucker, please tell him he's required in Engineering."

T'Pol answered one last time with a curt, "Affirmative," and Trip knew he couldn't fight for the warm internal glow he desperately wanted to hold onto just a little bit longer. He pulled himself upright and extended his leg over the side of the bed, searching for his sweatpants and the shirt that had gone missing long before.

He thought it would be a good idea to let her know he was up and awake. "I heard."

Somewhere near the bed he found his sweatpants and started to slide his leg into one of the holes. It wasn't until T'Pol set the room lighting on dim that he noticed he was about to put his pants on backwards.

Quickly trying to correct it, he imagined the inevitable gossip about him leaving T'Pol's quarters with his pants on backwards. It was bad enough his clothes and hair were more disheveled than they usually were after their sessions.

As he hunted for his shirt, he was keenly aware that her body was in rapid motion: rushing to the locker, pulling out her suit, and putting it on. That whispering voice in his mind, which had guided him through the night and finally quieted during their peaceful sleep, chirped again that she would try to leave without a word to him, and he could not let that happen.

Just before she slipped out of the door of her quarters, leaving him behind, Trip's hand grabbed her arm to stop her. He felt her body shudder. Her eyes darted everywhere they could go that was not toward him.

"Commander, my presence is required on the Bridge and yours in Engineering."

Those eyes finally pulled up to his and Trip felt a pull to connect his body to hers again and again and, oh God, again. And even though it was tempting to forget it all – duty, safety, common sense – Trip had to let it go. For now.

It was a small ship and she could only avoid him for so long. Besides, he had his memories to occupy his mind for a while, at least.

And while people bustled from one end of the corridors to the other, he thought of each moment with T'Pol on his way to his quarters. He chuckled at his original concern that her willowy form could not accommodate him physically or possess the stamina for all that he wanted to experience with her. Boy was he wrong. Seems she expected more rigorous activities than he had expected.

Sitting up, lying down, there was even some point where they'd made their way back on the floor. Trip felt his body flush just before reaching the doors to his quarters when he remembered what they'd done on the floor. How he loved those pillows now.

He remembered T'Pol snuggling close, her head on his chest and her leg resting on his. She'd held him tightly as she slipped soundlessly into a deep-breathed sleep just before him.

They would have to talk about this, figure out where to go in their relationship. There was plenty of time for that, but for now, there was duty, safety, and common sense. And so he dressed himself in his uniform and headed to Engineering.


End file.
